


I See You As The Light

by Dumbelectricfish



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, College AU, Gen, M/M, musician au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dumbelectricfish/pseuds/Dumbelectricfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A guitar, a pile of textbooks, and the smell of detergent</p><p>Title comes from the song Midnight Sun by Phillip Phillips</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They meet in a Laundromat. 

Gavin had just finished putting his last load of the day into the washer, and was busy folding the load that had just come out of the dryer when he heard the door open. He was the only one in the room besides the scruffy attendant behind the counter, but he didn’t pay much attention to the newcomer until he set his basket down at a machine not too far from where Gavin’s jeans (he could’ve sworn he didn’t own that many skinny jeans) were spinning and sloshing. 

Gavin peeked at him out of the corner of his eye. He looked to be around Gavin’s age, with a stockier build and brown curls sticking out of a woolen beanie on his head. He huffed with effort as he roughly shoved his clothes into the washer, an irritated look on his face. Gavin realized that it was probably best to keep his distance in case the stranger wasn’t in the mood to talk, but… 

“You know, you really should sort that,” he said, a little loudly to be heard over the sound of the machines. 

The other man whipped around to face him. “Are you talking to me?”

Gavin leaned back a little, surprised at the man’s brusqueness. He glanced around the room; luckily the attendant hadn’t looked up from his phone. “Um, yeah…I just….noticed that you weren’t sorting your clothes and I figured I’d let you know that they’ll probably stay nicer for longer if you, um. Sort them? If you didn’t know that already.”

The other man waved his hand. “Whatever. I don’t have time for that shit right now. They’re fine the way they are.” He inserted some quarters into the machine, the coins jingling in the sudden lapse of conversation, and Gavin shut his mouth. There was no reason to take the statement so personally, right? Maybe the stranger was just having a bad day.  
Gavin went back to his folding, immediately deciding that he owned too many t-shirts. 

They spent the rest of the time silent, neither trying to strike up any kind of conversation with the other. After his folding was done, Gavin picked up the book he was reading for his film theory class and the other guy just sat there playing with his phone—not that Gavin surreptitiously was watching him. Of course not. 

And then, when his clothes were done and dry and folded in his basket, he picks them up, his backpack on his back, and he walks out the door. He only allowed himself a small glance back over his shoulder. He was sure he’d never see the strange caustic young man again. 

But, of course, he’s wrong.

About a month later, Gavin was once again perched on top of a machine waiting for a load of laundry to finish with a textbook perched on his lap , when he heard the door open, followed by a gust of rainy September air. He looked up, wondering if it was—yup, it was him. Gavin pondered the odds of the two of them seeing each other here again as he watched the young man haul his basket over to an available machine, but then he remembered that this was the Laundromat that was closest to both the university dorms and the large area of off-campus student houses. He went back to his book. 

A few minutes later, he registered the sound of footsteps heading towards him on the linoleum, and then a body appeared in his periphery. He looked up from his book to see the caustic stranger, his hair and shoulders damp from the rain outside. 

“Um, hi. I don’t know if you remember me, maybe you don’t. But a few weeks ago you offered me a suggestion about my clothes and I was rude to you?”

Gavin smiled a little, trying to force his heartbeat to slow down, and closed his book. “I remember you.”

“Oh. Okay cool. Yeah. Well… I basically wanted to apologize. I didn’t think it was necessary at the time, but the next time I did my laundry I ended up trying it, and, well, it turned out better than it usually does when I don’t sort them. And then ever since then I felt like an ass for how rude I was to you, since you were just trying to help.”

“Oh, I…” Gavin’s foot twitched and knocked against the dryer he was sitting on, making an obnoxious hollow banging sound. “Thank you, for the apology. It’s all right. I’m just glad it ended up working out for you.”

The stranger smiled. “You mean, you’re just glad you’re right?”

Gavin smirked. “Well, not exactly, but, y’know. It’s a plus.”

The curly-haired stranger’s smile grew and he stuck out his hand. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

“Gavin.” He shook it. 

Michael nodded towards the book Gavin held. “You’re a student?”

“Yeah, I’m a third year. You?”

“Yeah, same. What’s your major?”

“Digital cinema. My minor’s in music. What’s yours?”

“Sweet. Mine’s computer science. Don’t have a minor yet, though, but I should probably get on that.”

Gavin grinned. “Might be a good idea. Where are you from?”

The conversation carried on from there. Gavin learned that Michael was from New Jersey—which led Gavin to noticing the slight accent that he carried—and Michael asked where Gavin was from and why he was in the US, having clearly noticed Gavin’s own accent. 

“After I finished college—which is like high school in the US basically—I knew I wanted to go to school for something film related since it’s been a hobby of mine for ages, and I could’ve stayed in the UK and gone somewhere there, but I came over to visit a friend of mine that I met online and he and I came up with the idea of me going to school her. So.” He shrugged. “Here I am.”

Michael made an impressed face. “That’s kinda cool, man.”

Gavin grinned. “Thanks.”

After that the conversation continued and they ended up on the topic of video games, and realized that they liked some of the same ones. That kept them talking for a long time, until Gavin realized that his clothes needed folding. He left soon after, but Michael stayed to finish one more load of laundry, and Gavin waved a goodbye to him that was much friendlier than their previous one.  
*  
Over the next few weeks, they ran into each other two more times at the Laundromat, even though neither of them really maintained a regular clothes-washing schedule. Their conversations expanded and they got to know each other better, until one of them would stay until the other was finished with their laundry, talking and hanging out and doing homework. Michael made fun of Gavin for his massive collection of skinny jeans (Gavin’s only retort was “THEY’RE NOT THAT TIGHT!”) and Gavin would sarcastically ask Michael if he ever washed the only beanie he seemed to own. (“IT’S NOT THE ONLY ONE I HAVE!”) Michael made fun of the way Gavin said his name, saying it sounded like Micoo in his dumb British accent, and Gavin started calling Michael “Rage Quit” after the way he’d get pissed and start yelling at things. They exchanged phone numbers and started occasionally texting each other when they weren’t together in that weird old building that smelled like detergent and metal. 

And then one day they ran into each other on campus, the first time they’d seen each other outside of the Laundromat. Seeing Michael in the crowded hallway, Gavin almost thought for a minute that Michael was in a place he didn’t belong; where were the washing machines and the apathetic employee behind the counter? Both boys were on a break from classes, so they sat down outside one of the buildings and chatted for a while, until Michael had to get to class and the slight chill in the air was starting to get to be too much for them. As Gavin sat there in the air that was losing autumn’s warmth, he watched Michael walk away and realized how much he liked spending time with him. Underneath all the insults and anger, Michael was actually really nice, and Gavin had come to realize that when he called him names he meant in endearingly. The tone he delivers them in is entirely different than the one he had used the first day they met. 

Gavin grinned.


	2. Chapter Two

The day after they ran into each other on campus, he texted Michael and invited him over for a night of video games. A couple hours later, Michael texted back with a yes, and Gavin’s pulse beat a little dance in his wrists.

He sent Michael the address ( _oh, that’s just a few blocks away from where I live)_ and Gavin ignored the chills that made his ears tingle at the realization that he and Michael were practically neighbors.

Michael showed up around 7.

Gavin was suddenly self-conscious as he opened the front door and let Michael in. Suddenly everything normal seemed new with Michael in the room; has he really crashed countless times on that couch, and how long has that bin of recycling been by the door? And Michael was being polite, the only traces of his caustic humor directed at Gavin himself, and none of his surroundings, as haphazard as they were. He was even nice to Geoff, Gavin’s roommate, and Griffon, Geoff’s girlfriend who came home from work a couple of hours after Michael arrived. And they ordered some pizzas and fired up Gavin’s Xbox like it was nothing. Like they’d been doing it for ages.

The ease made Gavin’s heart palpitate.

Geoff played Xbox with them for a little bit but took a break when Griffon got home and Gavin could hear them talking quietly in the kitchen. Michael and Gavin continued playing, and Gavin couldn’t help but giggle at Michael’s strings of curse words, some more creative than others but most just variations of “FUCK YOU.” He began to deliberately annoy Michael because he found it funny to see his reactions.

“GAVIN YOU LITTLE SHIT.”

“C’MERE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT JERKOFF.”

Another giggle.

And Michael may have been yelling at the top of his lungs (please, let no one call the cops about a noise complaint tonight), but there was a light in his eyes and it made Gavin warm.

They stopped after a while to get drinks, and as they sat on the futon in Gavin’s room, Michael began to look around the room and it made Gavin feel self-conscious again. He didn’t have people in his room very often. He made a mental note to straighten the poster on the closet door.

“So do you like, not have any bedding, or what?” Gavin realized that Michael was looking at his mattress, which was entirely bare except for the pillows piled up on one end.

“Oh, uh, no. I spilled Coke on my bed earlier, so the sheets and stuff are all in my laundry basket.”

“You clumsy dumbass.” They were quiet for a couple minutes. Then Michael spotted his guitar, sitting on its stand in the corner by the window. “Do you play?”

Gavin looked at it. “I do actually, yeah. My film major is actually mostly a hobby, something I hope I can fall back on if I need to. But I would love to be a musician.”

“Reason behind the music minor then, I guess.” Gavin’s chest warmed at the realization that Michael remembered that about him, even though he had mentioned it weeks ago. Michael took another sip of his drink. “What kind of stuff do you play?”

Gavin ran his hand through his hair and picked at a scab on his knuckle. “Mostly alternative stuff, I guess? Singer-songwriter. Covers, primarily, for right now, since they’re a great way to learn. I’ve started writing some of my own songs though, too.”

“Oh cool.” Michael looked genuinely interested, and Gavin found himself blushing a little.

“Thanks. I’ve played a few times at like, campus open mikes and stuff…never done anything bigger than that, though.”

“Well that’s a place to start though, right?” Michael’s voice was encouraging.

“Oh yeah. The money’ll come eventually.” Walking over to it, Gavin absentmindedly picked up his guitar and sat back down on the futon, running his hands over the lacquered wood. He strummed a few chords, and noticed Michael watching his fingers.

“Do you think you could play something for me?”

Gavin’s fingers twitched. “You want me to?”

Michael smiled. “Yeah, stupid. Wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Gavin smiled, shifting his hands on the instrument. His nerves had been singing for the past twenty minutes at least, but as soon as the guitar was in position on his lap, his heart rate slowed. The song he picked wasn’t strictly instrumental but he left out the vocals, instead focusing on the rhythm. The title was apt, he thought, given the autumn weather outside.

He didn’t play the whole thing, just about a minute and a half of it, but it went by slowly. Time always slowed down for Gavin when he played; his brain, normally going a hundred miles a minute, finally had the space to slow down and make him feel relaxed. When he put the guitar down and looked back up at Michael (no, he hadn’t been avoiding eye contact, that would be ridiculous), his new friend’s eyes seemed to be almost glowing and Gavin wondered where his lungs had run off to. What was it about this broad-cheekboned boy that was so beautiful?

“Holy shit, Gavin. That was really good.”

A grin split Gavin’s face. He ran his hand through his hair. “You think?”

“Yeah dude. I loved that.”

Gavin’s grin grew. “Thanks, Michael.”

Michael smiled too. “Welcome, Gavin.” He paused for a minute, looking at the instrument in Gavin’s hands. The menu screen music of their video game began looping again in the background. “I always thought it’d be fun to play guitar.”

Gavin looked down at his guitar, then up at Michael. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I was just never able to take lessons as a kid.”

Gavin chewed on his lip a little. “Well, you know, I could teach you if you wanted.” A blip of excitement hit his heart as the words left his mouth. The idea was surprisingly appealing to him.

Michael’s eyes widened a little. “Yeah?”

“Sure. It’d be top.”

_“Top?”_

“Yeah, idiot.”

Michael grinned. “You and your weird vocabulary. Speak fucking English already” Michael paused and took another sip of his drink. “But you’d really be willing to teach me?”

“Course I would.” Now that Michael had agreed, he was genuinely excited. “You wouldn’t have to pay me or anything.”

“You sure? Because I can, Gav, no problem if you—“

Gavin ignored the way his ears tingled when Michael called him _Gav._ “No, seriously, Michael, don’t worry about money.”

“Well…all right, then. But yeah, I…think that’d be really cool.”

“Awesome!”

So the next time they hung out at Gavin’s place, a few days later, he brings out his guitar and Geoff and Griffon knowingly keep their distance, not wanting to pressure Michael with an audience. Gavin plays a little bit, slowly, letting Michael watch how it goes and what he does with his hands, and there’s something very…lovely, about playing in front of him. Gavin snuck a few looks from under his eyelashes at the way the evening rainy light was blurring Michaels’ features, softening his jawline. He never had a problem with performing, but playing like this is different; it’s not a concert, there isn’t really an audience. Not in the same way he’s used to. He refused to let the word _intimate_ enter his brain, because that was fucking ridiculous.

Then he handed the guitar to Michael and showed him how to hold it, and which strings were which key, and how to make them produce a certain sound based on how you pressed and strummed them. And even though Michael’s fingers were admittedly shorter and wider than Gavin’s, he picked up on it surprisingly well. It was odd, seeing his guitar in the hands of someone else, and he couldn’t help but think about all the songs he’d played on it over the years, and he imagined that he could hear them, the melodies twining around them.

Music had always been a very visceral experience for Gavin, one he could hear and feel and taste and see, a process of creation as well as being something that had always been his and his alone. Even when he performed, it was _his_ hands that made the chords, the songs, his voice that carried the words. Everyone else was just a passive consumer. Now, for the first time, he found himself in their position, listening rather than making.

And he didn’t know what to think about it.

Michael stumbled along for a while, making whatever note came to his fingers first. There wasn’t any kind of reason to it, no pattern, no melody. Yet Gavin kept listening; this wasn’t like the other times he’d heard inexperienced people play. He had no desire to walk away or turn off his ears. No, instead, there was something… _good_ about Michael’s playing. He had talent. And probably for the first time ever Gavin began to wonder if he really wanted to play with someone else.

He was too caught up in his thoughts to notice for a minute that Michael’s hands had paused on the guitar, and he was looking at Gavin expectantly. When he finally did notice, he looked up and met Michael’s eyes very briefly before shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

“Gavin?”

“Sorry, I…sorry. I got wrapped up in the music, happens sometimes.”

“Oh. That’s okay.” Michael smiled and Gavin compulsively scratched his ear.

“Do you want me to keep playing, or?” Michael shifted the guitar a little, like he was quietly offering it back to Gavin.

“You can keep playing if you want.”

“Well… I just don’t know what I’m doing with it.” Michael looked down at it, tracing it with his fingers. He paused. “Could I hear you play, maybe? Like a full song, not like what you did earlier. Since you actually know what you’re doing.”

Gavin smiled. “Sure.” Gently, trying to avoid touching Michael’s fingers, he took the guitar, the slight twinge of the strings the only sound in the room for a moment. He settled it into place against his legs, and sat quietly for a couple seconds to steady himself before moving his fingers into position. He could feel Michael’s eyes on him and he felt self-conscious, a feeling he didn’t usually get when playing in front of people. He started off with just a few shaky chords, trying to forget about his audience, and the sudden closing of his throat. He cleared it, roughly, hating the noise he made, and then swallowed. In a moment of rushed thinking he chose the first song he could think of.

He realized by the middle of the first verse that the lyrics were…maybe a little bit…obvious. He didn’t want any weird implications. He’d just met Michael. But he tightened his grip and kept playing, avoiding looking Michael in the eye. _Nothing is wrong. Nothing is suspicious._ The song was one of his favorites, anyway.

_I don’t know you, but I want you all the more for that._

_Words fall through me, and always fool me, and I can’t react._

When he finished, he relaxed his hands and glanced up at Michael, too nervous to keep eye contact. He was sure that he’d just blown it, and that Michael was going to get up and leave. “That song’s been one of my favorites for ages,” he said, hoping to move onto another topic. He tried to hand the guitar back to Michael, but he didn’t take it. Gavin sat there for a moment, looking down at his carpet, hoping that he hadn’t screwed up. His heartbeat was in his wrists again, but urgent this time, and jumpy.

“Wow, Gavin.”

Gavin looked up again. Michael was looking intently at his face.

“That was really, really good. Wow. You can _sing.”_

Gavin’s toes tingled. “ _Naaahhhh._ You liked it?”

“Hell yeah I did.”

Gavin grinned. “Thank you.” He wiped his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans in a way that he hoped was discreet. It felt like there was a warm bubble of water in his chest, directly formed out of Michael’s praise.

*

Later that night after a few more video games and a few more spontaneous notes on the guitar, Michael went home, and Gavin gently shut the front door with a smile on his face. He ran his hands through his hair, cracked his knuckles, and…nearly ran into Geoff in the kitchen.

“Whoa. Sorry. Thought you’d gone to bed a while ago,” Gavin remarked. The microwave clock read nearly 1am, and Gavin knew Geoff had work in the morning before his afternoon classes.

Geoff smiled. “Nah man. We just wanted to give you and Michael some space, so we’ve been in watching a movie.” Gavin’s roommate paused. “He seems really nice, Gav.”

“He…yeah, he is.” Gavin had the feeling that Geoff was reading more into the situation than was necessary, and was about to enter Dad Mode. “We’ve become good friends rather quickly.”

“I’ve noticed. Well, I’m not opposed to having him around whenever he wants to be, and I know Griffon feels the same.”

“Gavin grinned. “Good. I’m glad of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently working on putting together a playlist on 8tracks for all the songs featured in this, I'll publish it as soon as it's ready!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter two is almost done, so hopefully I'll have that up soon!


End file.
